An Extremely Tokiko Valentine's Day
by Sonanoka21093
Summary: An absurdly late Valentine's day story, but I was writing off-site for this one. I wanted to prove myself, and I did. Enjoy the fruits of my labor!
1. Updates 1 and 2

Author: Yes, yes, I know, I know! I slacked with showing you guys this story. It's just that, well, as a finished CYOA, it's a bit hard to fix up. Well, okay, it's more tedious than hard. Still, it was late even before I started, so it's not like it's entirely my fault. I didn't expect it to take a month to finish, in the end. Still, after this is finished, I'll get back to editing and rereading DoP in preparation to continue Frozen Paradise.

Also, the story can't be completely translated due to lack of strike through and spoiler options. Still, I'll do my best

* * *

You awaken not amongst the leafy branch of a tree, nor the damp grass below. You awaken instead to silken sheets and fluffy comforter. Where you once bore the bitter cold, hidden from freezing rain, you now found yourself in a home equal parts pleasant and disconcerting. Warm and inviting, yet... somehow _off_. It's not every day that one awakens to sharing a strange bed with one's self, after all.

It's an even rarer occurrence when one awakens to finding themselves in bed with _two_ of such copies.

And that's while ignoring the fact that they each were different. The same and yet disconcertingly dissimilar, as if cut from the same material but with different tools; as if one had lead a life vastly different from the other. The taller one looked to be unkempt and disheveled, while the other looked younger and well groomed. The former had the scent of books to her, which I would consider proper if not for the strong scent of varnish and wood. Of course, the latter had the scent of books as well, but it was hidden beneath that terribly overpowering scent of strawberry.

Honestly, you would have been less shocked if they were exact copies of yourself.

Exact copies don't have as uncomfortable of implications.

Exact copies can be easier to explain, whether or not you would ever have an explanation given to you.

But no. No, this situation defied explanation. You knew not where they came from, nor where you yourself were taken to. You knew only one thing. One simple, strange thing. One thought that felt wholly alien to you. One all-consuming desire that felt as if it were not your own.

You simply _must_ make chocolate.

But that wasn't the issue with that thought. No, the making of sweets, while something you never do, was ordinary enough. There was something else; something that raised the fine hairs on your neck. Something that tipped you off to the fact that something wasn't right more than being displaced, more than being amongst a gaggle of your kin and more than those kin being imperfect copies of yourself.

You knew for a fact that you had absolutely no idea what this "chocolate" even _was_ , let alone how to make it. This could imply many things, none of which being good. Possibly several things, even.

You could have been taken here in your sleep, which, while normally utterly benign and perhaps even an act of kindness, was made _significantly_ more concerning by the inclusion of copies of yourself.

Next, you could be dreaming. But even if you were, the sheer vividness, the sheer _oddness_ , was unlike anything you yourself would fathom. Dreams are not always simple dreams when one lives in a land of illusions, and what would happen if such an un-dream turned to nightmare?

And then there was the thought of a hallucination brought on by something you ate or drank. And while it was a very real possibility, this felt far too ordinary. Far too _normal_. While this place felt off, your mental faculties felt as they should be, your mind right and proper and your vision uninhibited. You have had hallucinated before, and this was nothing like any of them.

Finally, and most probably, your mind had been tampered with in some way. This had the worst implications of all, as that would open a can of worms beyond the scope of the others.

If one memory were added... who is to say what else were added? Or that _everything_ wasn't added? Why would they have done such a thing as altering one simple entry in your mind? Why is it that this one desire felt so out of place amongst the others? So off?

Furthermore, why would they ever wish to do _any_ of these things to _you_? You are an inconsequential nobody; a chick amongst hawks.

Unless it was _because_ you were nobody, _because_ you were weak and _because_ nobody would care if something happened to you. For all intents and purposes, you had no friends but the half youkai, and even he merely bore your presence out of pity and a misplaced feeling of responsibility for someone else's wrongs. If truly he wished to right those wrongs, the returning of those books would be the most pragmatic solution.

But, then, this didn't seem like such a bleak situation as that; you were neither chained nor shackled. The window was even open, though you felt no wind coming from it. You _did_ recognize the scents of a forest, however.

You eyed the other versions of yourself, studying them. The most obvious difference was wing size. The wings of the smallest of the three were actually quite large; larger than her body, in fact. If one combined the wings of yourself and the taller one, they would equal those large wings. Another difference of note was their hair, if it can even be called that. It looked as hair does, but a bird like yourself could make out the signs of a feather when you saw it. You had been quite confused by your hair when you had transformed to take this form so long ago, but over time had grown used to the odd purple and silver strands. In contrast, the fine feathers of the small one were blue and silver, while the larger one's were purple and white. Another odd dissimilarity between you three, you noted.

Another difference was the claws on the other two. Where as your own fingers ended in what one would expect of a human, the other two had talons of varying degrees of lethality. The larger one reminded you of the sparrow, but not nearly so ungainly. The smaller one's stubby black talons looked more useful for digging than murder, however.

Your eyes snap to the bookshelf you only just noticed. You've only _dreamt_ of seeing such a shelf, and yet here it is, straight out of those very dreams, if a bit less packed than you had hoped for. Not only that, but these books show signs of age for greater than that of the books you are used to.

You can't help but salivate at the sight of them.

But first, you must manage to get out from between a rock and a hard place. Were you any other resident of Gensoukyou, you might consider simply floating, but sadly, you aren't. As such, you clumsily begin to get out from between what adds up to a seraph of birds.

First, you kick off the sheets. Good, you are still dressed! _That's_ a good sign if ever there was one. Secondly, you try wiggling your numbed wings out from under them. You're honestly glad you can't feel them right now, because you _may_ have just dislocated one in doing so. Well, this is the price of books, as sad as it is.

Finally, you walk to the edge of the bed, dropping off onto the wooden floor. You soon realize that your feet are bare, and begin to look for your shoes, as the floor isn't particularly warm and feels strange and uncomfortable on your feet.

You look here and there, high and low, up and down, but you spot not one shoe, yours or otherwise. It would seem that it is your fate to bear the cool floor, and so you embrace that fate with open arms.

Being a wading fowl in winter was worse, honestly.

Padding quietly along the floor, you make your way to the shelves. The sight that greets you makes you shake your head; they aren't in any sort of order. The first book easily confirms this, at least unless the order is in reverse alphabetical order.

 _Wondrous Chocolates: Cooking With Magic._

The next book in line was just as chocolate-themed and made you think back to a certain book, raising many a warning bell.

 _How to Serve Man: A Compendium of Chocolate for Youkai_

The next book was surprisingly devoid of the theme of the others, while also confirming that the order in which the books had been shelved was clearly chaotic and random, or at least followed no shelving method you knew of. Well, that or they were shelved correctly in the actual languages they were written in.

 _Secret Passages and Booby Traps Vol. 1_

You look down, noticing the scuff marks on the floor that looked as if were caused by this very shelf. Clever, but not clever enough.

However, the next book was a return to form.

 _Hitchhiker's Guide to Chocolate_

Well, what have we here? A normal book?

 _The Chocolate Book of Handmade Chocolate_

Curious if the title held any truth to it, you decided to try and break off a bit of the book and taste it.

...You rescind your decision that it was a normal book.

And this next book made you wonder why someone would even wish to _make_ such a thing.

 _Functional Chocolate Weaponry IV: Daggers_

The next book showed that there was at least [i]some[/i] form of method to the madness that was the ordering of these books, while also making you wonder if they knew the definition of what a weapon was.

 _Functional Chocolate Weaponry XXI: Shields_

The third and final installment of the series didn't quite make sense the way your eyes saw it, and so you touched it. The letters blur as the language translates to Japanese before your very eyes.

"What on Earth...?" This book looked far less aged than the others. This book was also large enough to take up the better part of a shelf. The author was even different, and many more modern stylistic differences could be noted. Furthermore, had they really reached such a high number in the series yet only just reached claymores? If you aren't mistaken, "M" stand for 1,000.

 _Functional Chocolate Weaponry MMDCCCXXXVI: M18A1 Claymore_

Shaking your head, you decide to move on to the next book, raising your brow when you do.

 _Sexual Chocolate: A Compendium_

Chocolate is truly frightening.

The next book made you a bit more concerned than the last, while also teaching you that such a thing was even _possible_.

 _Candy Architecture Volume 17: Chocolate Wood_

You looked down at you feet, realizing that it wasn't that your feet were simply sweating. No, it was something that you only realized as you hopped to the side before the floor could even get _close_ to giving way.

The floor, walls, ceiling and most everything else was made of chocolate.

You eyed the bed, which seemed to be ordinary enough, but on closer inspection found that it smelled of sugar. You were simply too deadened to the scent by way of sleeping amongst so much of it to realize sooner.


	2. Updates 3 and 4

You eye Sexual Chocolate. You don't know quite why it interests you so, but it does, and so you grasp it. And then an idea begins to formulate in your groggy mind that you would never consider at any other time.

This is a bad idea.

This is a _very_ bad idea.

Pulling it from the shelf, you noisily drag a chair to beside the side of the bed with the smaller of the others.

She doesn't wake up.

Plopping down, you clear your throat, flipping to page one, and— Ohh!

She shoots up, her head-wing shooting even farther up than she, immediately looking to the source of the paper with wide, wild eyes.

She blinks and looks to you yourself, slowly calming. She twists her head in a tilt at the speed you would only expect of a bird.

You decide to say what comes to mind, as you have the oddest feeling that she's considering if your eyes need a gouging. "...Good morning."

"Who are you? I've never seen someone like you before." She eyes your wings. "Are you a bird? You're a big bird. Why do you have a wing on your head?"

You open your mouth to tell the truth, before being cut off by the girl who was a full head smaller than you, "I think I've seen a bird like you outside my window before."

"I don't believe I've seen you before." ...Did you just technically lie? Such things are difficult to distinguish.

"Are you sure?" You must do better next time; you intend full well to tell the truth, and you will do so if your name isn't... isn't... Actually, you don't truly have a name. You have a _nickname_ , but you would hardly consider such a name to be a name.

The girl patiently stares.

...But then, you just referred to it as a name. Does that mean you lied to yourself, thus lying again? You're beginning to remind yourself of the Black-white, and you don't like that one bit. Being compared to a thief, even by yourself, is completely unacceptable.

The girl begins preening her head-wing with her teeth and tongue, snapping you out of your internal monologue.

"...What are you doing?" You can't help but raise a brow at her overly hands-off approach.

She hops away from you, her three wings fluttering, obviously surprised by your question and eyeing you carefully. As quickly as she jumped away, she calms down. "I'm preening the odd wing on my head."

You wonder if she's serious; that much should be plainly obvious. "...I can see that."

Suddenly, her face is in your face, causing you to stumble back. "I definitely think I've seen you before."

You blink rapidly and clear your throat. "Well, yes, I'm you." Also not technically the truth. You have to work on this.

twisting her head in a tilt, she jerkily looks you over, her head twitching this way and that. "But I'm over here."

You can't help but sigh. This is getting you nowhere fast. "Yes, but I'm you and you are myself, in that we are the same person and yet not the same person." You decide to simply not care if you confuse this odd girl.

She quickly gets in your face again, looking you up and down as a bird would. "But that's a contradiction."

You don't quite know what to say to that. You were expecting her to say something to the effect of being confused, or ask what you're talking about, not... _that_.

It's not so much that she _said_ that, but the fact that she has a very good point, that bothers you.

You decide to cut to the chase. "Why were you preening like that?"

She tilts her head the other way this time. "Because you seemed busy; you even were looking up and tapping your chin with your finger. I had assumed you were thinking. Was I wrong?"

You blink again. "Well... no, I suppose not, but..." You sigh. "Look, I just want to know why you were using your mouth to preen."

She stares blankly a moment, lulling you into a query over if she even heard you or understood you. "But what else would I use?"

This time it's your turn to give a blank stare. However, you throw in a risen brow for a splash of color. "...Are you messing with me?"

"No, that wouldn't be very nice, now would it? The last person to mess with me earned their pecking. ...They did not seem displeased with it, however. Master says that my lack of beak caused it to actually be pleasant and that I should use my forehead and aim for the part that smells next time. I'm not quite sure why I would wish to peck their rear, but I will gladly do so."

You blink rapidly again, what with her saying all of that rather quickly. In the time it takes you to digest that and come up with a response, she begins her oral preening again. "Who-" Once more she hops away, however you don't pause. "-is this "Master" you speak of?"

Blinking twice and returning to a relaxed stance, she replies, "Why, the one that owns me, of course."

This causes the taller Tokiko to peer at us from over her shoulder.

You notice her lickety-split. "Ohh, hello... ...me."

The smaller Tokiko rapidly jerks her head back and forth between the two of you twice. "You two look oddly similar. Are you of the same clutch? I have read of twins. Are you twins? You quite look like twins, and that fascinates me. I've never met twins before."

Sitting up, the taller bird replies, "Well, perhaps we are of the same clutch, but in whose are we?"

Smallkiko cocks her head. "The one whose clutch we are in, obviously. However, I wonder how we are in their clutch if we don't know them? Perhaps separation at birth. I read of such a phenomena in a book some time ago."

Tallkiko nods. "A valid option. Perhaps it is our long lost sister whom was abandoned as an egg. ...But there is one issue with that; I didn't come from an egg. Well, that isn't right; I didn't come from an egg that was vigorously pushed out of a cloaca."

She blinks. "Then where did you come from?"

"A library full of useless books."

"But books have many uses! The ones that do not have any use can be traded for other books! As can the books you have read! This is a very nice system and I like it very much."

"Ahh, but therein lies the problem; what value have books when you cannot read?"

"But I can read! ...Well, technically. I recently learned that word, and quite like it. Technically as in I technically cannot read."

The tall one looked interested at this. "Ohh? Tell me more."

"Well, I merely have an innate ability to translate, as I have been told. Master told me as such, so it [i]must[/i] be true."

"But what does it translate to if you cannot read?"

"Why, words that I can read!"

"But you cannot read words."

"Well, these words I can read. At least I call them words. I'm not sure what else to call them."

You feel a headache coming on.

"Pictures?"

"No, pictures are pictures, not words."

"Smoke signals?"

"No, that sounds more complicated and like it would damage the book."

"Sign language?"

"That's impossible."

Is this really what a conversation with yourself would sound like?

"Roman numerals."

"...Perhaps. What are those?"

"The numerals of the Romans, of course."

"Hrm... They _do_ have an odd Roman feeling to them at times."

"Perhaps they translate to things your inferior brain might understand, or simply pure knowledge."

"Perhaps."

...Maybe if you were insane.

"Are you perhaps capable of extending such an ability to others?"

"I have what has been called an aura of translation. So long as I am near, others can-"

And so Tallkiko picked up the smaller girl, whom let out quite the sound, making your head spin as the larger bird began sprinting over to the bookshelf. The smaller one looked _extremely_ uncomfortable with this level of contact.

You sigh, shaking your head. "Be sure to not touch the book near the top about trap doors and boobie traps; I think it's some elaborate trap, and have a sinking feeling that it has to do with chocolate."

Her hand stopping right in front of said book, the tall one replied, "Chocolate, you say? I'm not sure if I would enjoy a chocolate trap. Perhaps vanilla. Or butter. Or splinters." She proceeded to instead pick up the 18 inch thick book about chocolate bastard swords or whatever it was about.

You walk over to the uncomfortable little bird and the extremely pleased larger bird who had the former in her lap, asking, "Why on earth do you need her power? Can you not read?"

The smaller one let out an uncomfortable peep, her personal space thoroughly violated, while the larger one rapidly scanned page after page. It was the large one to speak up. "Why, no, I cannot. This was stated."

You raise a brow. "And why have you not tried to learn, if such a thing is true? You seem very interested in such things."

"Why, a rather nasty bug took it from me."

You immediately flap your wings as hard as you can, tumbling away from her.

Yep, you definitely dislocated your wing in some place when you got up.

She spares a moment to glance at you. "It's not contagious." She goes back to reading.

You glare daggers at her. "Say that sooner!"

"You flung yourself away at high speeds the moment I stated this."

Well, she has you there. "...How do you know this for sure?"

She eyes you oddly. "I watched you do so."

You blink, before sighing when you begin to understand the way she chose to interpret that. "How can you be so sure that it isn't contagious?"

She doesn't look up, nor does she pause. "I have been quite intimate with my lovers since then. They are quite capable of reading and have not paused in their capabilities nor slowed down. ...They never would share what they read, however. The least they could do is read it aloud for me. I would be quite interested in the things stored in those musty old tomes."

You frown, feeling a bit sad for her, as her lovers obviously don't care for her.

At the same time, the smaller bird continually lets out little nervous peeps.


	3. Updates 5 and 6

You eye the book you left on the chair. You aren't quite sure what its appeal is, and yet... you simply can't sate this curiosity any other way, can you? You look to the Tokiko. "...Perhaps I could read a book for you, too."

The taller bird looks to you. "That would double my rate of reading. I quite like this idea."

...Is she planning on reading whilst you read this to her? You shake your head and simply drag the chair in question nearer to her and sit down, flipping to page one. "Now, one might think you have odd taste for reading this book, and they would be correct, but not because you read this book, but because you are an odd person."

You can help but raise a brow. "...The title of this book is quite intriguing, no? What are the uses of chocolate in a sexual manner? Why, chocolate is an aphrodisiac, and so those uses should be obvious! You must vigorously bite copious amounts of if before force feeding those copious amounts of sweetened beans to your captive and/or captivated audience."

Your other brow joins it. "In the event that your audience is but one man, I suggest turning to page 357 on how to properly hide a body, for you just fed him lethal amounts of chocolate, which in all likelihood also ruptured his stomach. In the event of your audience is 100 men, I am required, by contract, to shun you for being promiscuous. If your audience involves women, you are odd, and I will assume that you have dressed them up to look like myself and I shall hope that you are respectful in the vigorous attentions they receive."

The Tokiko are now staring at you with rapt attention. The smaller one has relaxed and the larger one seems interested. And so, you continue. "However, I humbly request that you take no less than 17 photos and send them to me. But now I'm afraid I have gotten sidetracked. As such, it is time that I get maintracked and continue talking about the sexuality of chocolate in its many facets. This word and many more will be included in the attached dictionary."

Who on Earth includes a dictionary with such a book? "Assuming you did not kill someone, they shall now be at your mercy, and it is now time to make a decision. In the event that you [i]did[/i] kill someone, they still shall be at [i]tender[/i] mercy without having to do all the extra work. Thank you for invalidating a month of research, and I hope that you are going to [i]thoroughly[/i] enjoy yourself. You need not send pictures, however, doubly so if they are dressed as myself. After the first fifteen times, that does become unarousing."

The smaller girl's head-wing seems to be wagging as if it were a tail. The taller one seems to be dodging it with her face with every swing. "It seems that's the end of the introduction. ...Hrm."

 _Chapter 1: Applications of Chocolate in a Molten State_

 _Chapter 2: Applications of Chocolate in a Solid State_

 _Chapter 3: Applications of Chocolate in a Gaseous State_

 _Chapter 4: Applications of Chocolate in a Plasma State_

 _Chapter 5: How to Not Kill Someone With Chocolate_

 _Chapter 6: How to Kill Someone With Chocolate_

 _Chapter 7: How to Kill Someone [i]Violently[/i] With Chocolate_

 _Chapter 7: How to Best Please a Man Using Chocolate_

 _Chapter 8: How to Best Please a Woman Using Chocolate_

 _Chapter 9: How to Woo Chocolate_

 _Chapter 10: How to Dispose of a Body_

 _Chapter 11: How to Dress a Body Up and Make People Think it's Alive_

 _Chapter 12: How to Make Chocolate in the Skull of Your Most Hated Enemy_

...Well, at least you were right about this book being quite interesting.

Now you just need to find out if that is a good thing or not.

In all honesty, you feel as if this has been a good experience for you, contrary to the downright disconcerting place you find yourself. You feel as if you could be loud and proud. You look around wildly and proceed to pick up a chocolate skull you found in the corner of the room.

Not concerning at all.

Looking to your captivated audience, you... deflate. In your long, drawn out actions you ended up losing their attention. "Ohh, woe is me!" Your head-wing touches to your forehead. "Whatever shall I do? Whoever shall I turn to so that I need not choose what chapter to read? Forsooth, for the bell doth toll for me!"

You have their attention now. Good.

You aren't sure if the looks they are sending your way are a good sign, but still, this is progress.

The tall one speaks up. "...You are quite odd." The small one agrees with a nod.

You deflate once more, as they seem like they would know. "...Please just pick a chapter." You shove the book in their faces, causing the small one to squawk and try to climb the taller, shall we say, sister. Clawings are involved.

"...Wooing chocolate does sound like it has many uses. Such as wooing chocolate! I like this idea."

The small one smiles brightly. "Plasma is such a curious subject. Let's investigate!"

The taller of the two gives her an odd look. "Plasma is-"

"No! No spoilers!"

"That is assuming much. For instance, whose choice will be chosen? I do remember something I once heard of mothers whom commonly make choices to like something or other. I will assume that it involved my opinion and move on."

"But the opinions of uninvolved mothers are hardly valid; they aren't here to enjoy such a reading.

Your brow twitches. "Look, I'll just read them both. Deal?"

They both instantly nod.

"Now, then-"

The taller one cuts me off. "But Whose will be read first?

Smallkiko opens her mouth, but I am faster. "I will choose."

Clearing your throat, you open your mouth to speak, but are cut off by the small one. "Who wrote it?"

You grumble as you flip it over. "Patricia Tannis."

* * *

Flipping it back over, you begin flipping to the proper page. Clearing your throat again, you begin in your most dramatic tone of voice, trying to match what you imagine this woman to be like, "Now, I shall assume that you have already turned your gaseous chocolate into a plasma, for I see absolutely no reason as to why you wouldn't. My _preferred_ method is by way of _electromagnet_. Applying heat to the gaseous chocolate might also be successful, but electromagnets have _magic fingers_ like few others."

You cautiously look to your crowd, finding them to be giving you their rapt attention.

Tallkiko is also a little flushed and tugging at her collar, which disturbs you more than it should.

"Now, with your chocolate forever preserved as a plasma, or at least until you decide to attempt to eat it as you are an _ignoramus_ , there are many options before you. For one, and I find this one quite amusing in between my fits of vomiting from having spoken to someone, you may make a chocolate star and drop it in water. Some may ask why this is amusing. I, too, find myself baffled, but I have decided to simply laugh when people laugh near me. I consider this a defense mechanism by this point, and have even begun to _enjoy_ these bouts of laughter, as strange as that seems."

You turn the page. "When I'm not participating in the aforementioned bouts of vomiting, of course." You eye your audience, finding that the shorter one has a look of awe on her face, while the taller one seems to writing these things down. It would appear that this writing is quite pleasing to her, for she has quite the smile on her face, likely simply from the ability _to_ write due to that sickness she has.

You think you'll take credit anyways, however.

Smiling, you continue your dramatic reading. "Another use, obviously, is to make a long since outdated Tesla coil and _modify_ it so as to shoot _flavored lightning_. It is difficult to tell if it works, for all tongues were removed in testing. It is also difficult to tell if that was their fault for licking it, or if it were my own fault for telling every single person among us that this lightning tastes like _chocolate_ and that the bowl does needs licking."

"There also is the option of making a simple neon sign, but that would be _boring_ , unless you make use of my lesson on the solid uses of chocolate for chocolaty glass tubing. But then, you likely wouldn't have a sign for long, as the sign would be considered a truly scrumptious treat."

"It would also likely give you lead or mercury poisoning in some way, shape or form. These things are the prices one must pay for genius, however, I'm afraid, and so you will have to deal with the inclusion of mercury and lead in the recipe. If you remove those ingredients, you may have issues with the food _mafia_ breaking your legs. However, this has nothing to do with why I have included such things in the recipe, and you would be _silly_ to think otherwise.

"Finally, and most importantly, you can use this to devise a sort of chocolate nuclear plant. Outdated, yes, but none the less dangerous in the wrong hands. However, I have yet to attempt dabbling in this new form of outdated, and possibly flavored, radiation. I would need individuals as skilled as I, where as I have... forty men who willingly lick a Tesla coil at the promise of chocolate flavoring. The first several I could forgive, but it would appear that pattern recognition is not a skill these men employ, if they even posses it any longer. I sometimes wonder what life would be like were I not stranded with these ex-miners turned bandits on this rock. Watching them devour their " _bacon_ " and those crumpets I know not from where they procure. It's quite sad, really."

You turn the page. "But then I remember that they licked a Tesla coil, one after the other, in a long, strangely _organized_ line."

Honestly, you feel a bit sad after reading that last bit, even ignoring the crazy. Even through all the insanity, you can't help but wonder what this woman has to go through on a daily basis amongst such people. It's a wonder that this book managed to get published, honestly. Well, unless it was self published. Still, you have to admit, though obviously mad, she does produce... _interesting_ literature.

Flipping back to the table of contents, you then turn to the intended section: Wooing Chocolate.

...You're honestly concerned as to if she intends to do anything with this knowledge. You're just going to bury that mental image niiiice and deep. "If you are reading this, you either are a curious individual or a curious individual. I quite hope it is the latter, for I get along with such people well. The first step to the heart of chocolate is a gift! I suggest chocolates. And, if you are a particularly lucky girl, you might even find a chocolate _chair_. This would be quite pleasing indeed. The key to the heart of a chocolate chair lies in lavishing it with sweet nothing, sweet _somethings_ and chocolates full of splinters taken from other chairs. This gives them solidarity with their more wooden cousin. Ahh, but now I am getting off track."

"Now, at the end of the day, this book was made to facilitate the inclusion of this portion, and all the sections before this have led up to this moment. It shall be a particularly long moment, however, to the point that one must wonder if even it _is_ a moment. First, one must create a rapport. This can be rushed by way of primping, as others might call it. Myself, I call it sleeping. A properly kept head of disheveled bed hair can be _quite_ appealing, and those that disagree are imbeciles who know not the _value_ of the wild and unkempt. You get bonus points if you begin to wear skulls of small rodents. Furthermore, bathing is optional, to say the least, if not _wholly_ unnecessary."

"This goes triple for the brushing of one's teeth and _sextuple_ for the application of make-up. One must maintain a constant state of arousal to maintain an alluring flush like my own, and the released pheromones shall likely drive the chocolate into a _mating frenzy_. I mean, yes, occasionally a skag does give me the _look_ , but that can hardly be helped when one smells as I do."

You're starting to think that she's beyond help, at this point. "Now, where was I? Ahh, yes. You must drizzle piping hot chocolate all over your—" You slam the book shut with a blush.

You look to the other two. They are staring expectantly.


	4. Updates 7 and 8

Author: Yeesh, that was horrible to edit. I had to fix so many [i]'s and [/i]'s! Anywho, sorry about the delay!

* * *

"And then the book ends here, the writing trailing off."

The taller Tokiko looks alarmed. "What? ...It must be that this "Tannis" killed the author and published it under her own name."

The smaller one squawks. "What? But she was _fascinating_!"

The tall one furrows her brows. "...But wait, this wasn't the final chapter." You avert your eyes. She notices. "Tell me, what was the state of that page?"

"Ohh, there was... blood everywhere. Gobs of carnage, too."

"I smell nothing of the sort. I smell many a lonely fluid upon that book, but blood is not amongst them."

You blink, looking to the book with horror apparent on your face. Do you dare smell it...? Scents can tell many stories, but is this a story you wish to know? "...Fine. I'll keep going." You grumble.

"No, Cocoa. You have proven yourself to be untrustworthy, and so I will read this myself, being sure to embellish anything particularly raunchy."

You blink, distracted from that threat to your aural virginity. "...Cocoa?"

She nods. "Yes, that is now your name."

The smaller one tilts her head. "What about me?"

The tall one eyes her a moment from over the book. "...Cloe."

The small Tokiko's eyes light up as her head-wing wags at her new name.

You frown. "In that case, I'm naming you X." She looks over the book at you, brow quirked. "Because you don't deserve a real name."

X looks at you strangely. "I've had worse; after all, I was once called Tokiko, I'll have you know."

You aren't sure if she was intending it or not, but that hurt more than you expected it to.

X proceeds to look back to the book. She tilts her head this way and that, before leaning her head in and squinting. "...Cloe, come sit on my lap; I can't read this."

Cloe's wings flutter. "How about I sing instead?"

Before anyone can respond, she begins unleashing the most infernal racket imaginable in song form. You grit your teeth as your mind twitches with activity. You feel as if your mind is being scrambled and put back together, as if new pathways are growing and knowledge expanding.

Needless to say, she's also giving you a splitting headache.

Through it all, X is seemingly enjoying it for reasons you know not. And, as suddenly the "song" began, it abruptly ends. X begins to clap, obviously impressed.

Meanwhile, you stare at her incredulously as your head throbs.

Cloe bows. "Thank you, Miss X."

X grins. "What do you call it?"

"Singing."

"Hrm... An odd term to use for it, but highly imaginative!"

"Thank you." You don't think that was a compliment.

X smiles. "You are welcome. Now, shall we read?"

Chloe cocks her head, her head-wing going the other way. "But I gave you the ability to read just now."

"Then I suppose I must reward you. Come, sit on my lap whilst I read to you." Somehow, that seems like it defeats the goal of her singing.

"Okay!" She proceeds to plop her rear down on X's lap.

X looks to the book, clearing her throat. "—genitalia, which I hope are _heavily_ engorged with blood and _leaking_. If you are male, I would consider if such a thing is healthy. If you are female, carry on, for I have discovered that such a thing is considered _normal_ by most." You shudder at the way that was worded.

"Now, with your genitals thoroughly coated in chocolate, one must add _sprinkles_. If you must ask _why_ , then you are a degenerate not worthy of the time of your _chocolaty love interest_ , chair or otherwise, and you must now _r_ e _move_ the chocolate, or, preferably, your _genitals_ , in a rather _gruesome_ manner. If you chose the obvious option, _set them aside_ , for when you are making chocolate in the skull of your _most hated enemy_ they will be _vital_ if you are a male. A chocolate stirring stick is _quite_ the commodity, after all, or so I have been told by the local psychopaths." I'm honestly shocked that Cloe can maintain such a smile while listening to such a thing, as I have a look of horror on my face that seems painted on.

Cloe's head-wing wags. "I had no idea they had such a use!"

X nods. "It isn't the intended use, but it _is_ a use, I would imagine. Although, it would be a rather finicky stirring stick, as pain would likely soften it. Maybe if one somehow traps the blood inside." While I was busy shuddering at the thought of any poor idiot that reads this book, X continues, reading, "Now, some might say _flowers_ are the optimal gift to _woo_ others, but _I_ for one would consider _severed genitals_ a _poor_ gift on their own, so coating them in _chocolate_ is a _must_."

" _However_ , one must _also_ consider how they wish to make use of these gifts, as the type of chocolate can be _quite_ vital. Do you wish to pour rose petals in chocolate kept at a toasty 300 degrees for a lovely dining experience, or would you rather allow that chocolate to _harden_ into a solid? I know not _why_ one wouldn't enjoy 300 degree chocolate, for it tested _quite_ well with the local psychopaths, but _is_ an option." You wonder why, indeed...

"It is _also_ an option to make use of the knowledge within the chapter on _gaseous_ chocolate, or, _preferable_ , chocolate in a _plasma_ state. After all, chocolate in a gaseous state makes for a _terrible_ perfume in many ways, even if it _does_ succeed in driving people to _lick_ you. After all, who _doesn't_ want their very own _chocolate and plant genital_ power source and/or weapon?" Sane people, I would think.

"Now comes the _presentation_. I highly recommend _becoming_ their chocolate gift. To assure success in this, be sure to pour the aforementioned 300 degree chocolate on your entire body. As you are now on a time limit, run, screaming or otherwise, towards your chocolaty love interest before you risk _hardening_. This is why such a high temperature is _important_ , for it would be _difficult_ to reach them in time at a lower temperature."

X looks up from her reading. "This to be the end of this chapter." The chair under her finally gives way from loss in structural integrity. She looks stunned.

Meanwhile, you can't stop shuddering.


	5. Updates 9, 10 and 11

A heavy silence reigns as X stares down.

Cloe, at the same time, looks up, her head-wing being stuffed in X's mouth for her trouble.

"Lff ish—" X spits out the wing. "Life is short for some, isn't it? I thought it was love at first sight, but instead it was murder! Murder in cold blood and... _uncomfortably_ warm chocolate." Did she just flourish the skull?

Cloe's head snaps into a rapid cocking. "Why not rebuild him? Stronger, faster and more sturdy than before?"

You raise an amused brow. "Don't you need a million dollars for that?"

Cloe nods. "I suppose you have a point." Her eyes twitch to the skull. "Well, he's made of chocolate, correct?"

X gasps. "That's it! I will melt him down and reforge him into a far more regal chair with thicker legs!"

"Why reforge when you can just use the skull to patch him up?"

You raise a brow. "I have the oddest feeling that this skull may have once been a man, judging by the bone st—"

"Chocolate."

"Yes, Cloe, I suppose you have a point. Judging by the _chocolate_ structure, it was male. I see no indications, aside from the chocolaty nature, that it was anything but human."

Cloe tilts her head. "Why does what it once was matter? Chocolate is chocolate. If magic made it this way, then it likely tastes nothing like a man."

You raise a brow. "You know a surprising amount about magic."

Cloe nods. "I'm learning. I know more about theory than I have skill in the art, however. Master is skilled in the art, but I have no true talent. Still, she insists it as payment for my services, and I'm hardly one to turn down knowledge."

You look at her with confusion. "No talent? Youkai are creatures of magic."

"She believes it's because I translate the spells. They are meant for Western languages, not Japanese."

X raises a brow, but is silent.

Cloe hops up, dusting herself off. "Whatever we do, we need to do it fast; she's not going to hold on much longer, I would imagine."

You look to Cloe, finally relenting to the onslaught of crazy. "Well, as we're technically killing it, such things don't matter."

X glares at you both. "He's a he, and death will not be the end for him. Not on my watch."

Cloe shakes her head. "The issue isn't the death, but the soul being lost. We need to preserve it. Should it be lost, any wandering spirit might possess her. Either we must work quickly, or keep the soul contained."

You sigh. "But what are we to do? The only way out seems trapped."

X eyes you. "You know a way out?"

"Yes, behind the bookshelf, but..." You trail off as X makes her way to the shelf. "Wait, wait, it might kill you!"

X furrows her brows, slipping her claws behind the shelf carefully. "Some things are worth the risk."

The shelf slides easily enough, and you watch expectantly, hoping you're not watching her final moments. Seconds tick by, and she looks to her hands. Shrugging, she simply gathers up the broken bits of chair and heads down the dark passage. Cloe soon follows, and you find yourself wondering what books might be of use in this situation.

You pluck Sexual Chocolate from the ground, but head over to the shelf, realizing that there are books on the back as well. You decide to hurry, so you don't give truly witty commentary on each.

 _Chocolate Rain_

 _Cocoa Bean Golemancy_

 _How to Rule the World: A Chocolatiers Guide_

 _Chocolate Anima_

 _A Man's Guide to Chocolate_

 _Anima Chocolate_

 _Chocolate Mind_

 _Chocolate Chocolate_

 _Mr. Chocolate and Friends_

You reach for the book on world domination, but somehow, you can't bring yourself to touch its spine, let alone grasp it. Peeling back the cover is as alien a feeling to you as reading anything else. Why would you read such a book? Why would you read any book but that which you already hold?

You smile as you hold up the text in question, and merely looking upon it, you know it is steeped in knowledge, forbidden or otherwise. It's positively _dripping_ with knowledge.

And so you once more pry open the spine, and without even trying, you find that it's already on the page that interests you.

 _Chapter 12: How to Make Chocolate in the Skull of your Most Hated Enemy_

You smile as you brush a hand lovingly over the tender knowledge. This is what you want. If you must make chocolate, _this_ is the book you must use. And you will follow its instructions to the tee, for it isn't good to deviate, now is it?

You blink rapidly, finding yourself in a kitchen with the Tokiko, your book grasped in your arms, and the new and improved chair sitting there. You smell blood, and try to recall how you came to this point.

You remember a popping bubble.

You remember a terrible gout.

You remember a rolling.

You remember a thud.

You remember a thwack. Just one, for you are strong of arm.

You remember a tussle.

You remember a search.

You remember a grasping.

Before you, Hakurei Reimu stares back. Her eyes are lifeless, one lidded more than the other.

But then, what can be expected of a head? Certainly not perfect eye control, among other things.

You look to your hands. One holds a bloodied cleaver, the other holds your favorite book. There's so much blood covering you.

It's only natural to read that which interests you the most, isn't it?

* * *

Author: Well, I think that's a great place to stop for the day! Three updates in one? Happy day!

Yukari: My, how cruel you are~

Yuuka: Ignoring the fact that this "happy day" involves the end of life as we know it, I for one quite liked Reimu.

Yukari: Ohh, I'm sure she's fine.

Yuuka: ...I hope you realize that removing the head or destroying the brain is the only way to kill a miko.

Author: Just what on earth do you think Reimu is...?

Yuuka: Well, it was an interesting factoid that I learned from my new friend~

Author: ...Forget I asked. Anywho, I feel as if I've padded this enough, so it's time to post it!


	6. Updates 12, 13 and 14 (Finale)

Important marker translations. Took me a while to figure out what to do to covert spoilers and strike through to a format that doesn't allow them.

[Hidden]

(Undone)

* * *

The others look to you, as if you weren't there a moment ago. They both eye the head, but only Cloe speaks up. "That's not very nice. She's not very nice, but still, you should make up."

Your eyes flick to her, then back to Reimu, feeling panic rising in your gut. "...I'm sorry, Miss Hakurei, for invalidating your work with the end of your life."

The littlest bird smiles. "Now kiss and make up!"

You look at her funny, distracted from that panic, but proceed to peck the head on the forehead.

Tilting her head quickly, Cloe asks, "Ehh? That's what a kiss is? Didn't you just peck her?" She looks thoughtful. "...Then I've been kissing people that annoy me?"

You sigh, resigned, but answer regardless. "It seems so." You notice that X is breaking up twig bits and dumping them in a bowl, but ignore it in favor of turning to chapter 1 of your book.

 _Now, technically the first step depends on how little you truly care about the recipient. If you wish to show your_ disdain _for them, merely melt down chocolate and form it into the shape of a particularly_ nasty _expletive. I would recommend product of incest, but sadly spaces do not translate well. After that is through, you merely must_ throw _it at their_ head _. The velocity further dictates your_ evel _of hatred, not the size of the chocolate. My favorite method of delivery would be a_ magnetic acceleration _delivery method. To do such a thing, you must mix in vast quantities of iron. The more metal involved means a more effective cannon. This will also influence the displayed_ level _of your hate, for it gives your chosen word_ weight _._ however _more_ importantly, _it allows you to create a highly specialized_ railgun _fit for any word of your choosing. My favorite would be a simple exclamation point, as it's far easier to work with than a_ fuck gun. _Mind you, the chocolate_ will _melt in the firing process, so make sure that you can easily clean the barrel._

Her head-wing wagging, Cloe looks to you expectantly, causing you to sigh. You proceed to reread that bit aloud, making sure to ham it up. "Next on the list would be if you only have _minor_ disdain for the one in question. For this, you will produce your own chocolate, but with none of the love involved in producing your own materials."

"Finally, and for one you truly care for, you must make your own ingredients. This means growing cocoa beans, harvesting phospholipids from fatty tissue, milk from something that produces milk, and grow sugar. I will not bore you with the details, for these things should be plainly obvious." You sigh. It seem this doesn't tell you how to do those things. ...Well, it's not like you have to make it with love, right?

A capillary pops in your eye. "Yes, what was I thinking? It must be done with as much love as can be contained in a skull." You grab a bone saw from... from...

You rub your head, shaking away the painful thoughts on where you got it from. And so you set the head on the counter, putting the saw to the temple.

And then you saw.

The sound is one you will never forget; it sounds disturbingly similar to sawing through wood, but with bone shards instead of saw dust.

You follow the instructions to the tee, sawing where you will lose the least brain matter. You need that.

You follow the instructions to the tee, holding her head so it won't slip.

Why is this so hard? This should be easy, shouldn't it?

You hate her, don't you?

And yet, to see her die, and it to be your hand that swung the cleaver... It's difficult. Your eyes burn. Your throat aches.

But you continue, knowing you will not be allowed to stop. You would rather commit measured atrocities than to be forced into further horrors yet unknown.

You smile as your tears drip. But you will do it with love. You must love all of your ingredients like your children.

You smile as you look to the head, and love it like a child. Your lip quivers as you look at it. Your child is dead. You killed your child.

X looks to you, shaking her head as she gets back to work.

Cloe tilts her head in the same rapid movement as always. "What's wrong, Cocoa?"

You look to her. Does she truly not understand what has transpired? What crimes you have committed? What _horrors_ you did simply with one quick chop? The land you ended? The creatures you doomed? No, obviously not. "I am making chocolate with... love."

Her brow quirked, Cloe watches a tear fall to the ground. "That seems like sadness. Sadness is what makes those odd waters leak. Master said that it's a very human thing to do. She wants to be able to drip like humans can but can't."

You wipe your eyes on your bloodied sleeve, smearing Reimu's metallic scent on your face. Your brow twitches at the stench you merely made worse.

But at least your eyes aren't full of tears! "Then call me human, I suppose."

"Okay."

You sigh. You should have expected that, honestly; you should have expected her to take that literally.

You looks to your gruesome work. Following the instructions, you didn't even have to worry about getting cut hairs inside.

That would mean you are making it with love, right?

Yes, certainly.

Certainly.

You grab the hair over the incision, twisting it. It twists without resistance.

Good. Love properly administered.

You pull it off, setting it aside. The head is fresh, making the matter within akin to soggy, waterlogged noodles. Good. This will do quite nicely.

You start by placing a sieve over the hole, before emptying the fluid into a bowl. Next, you take scissors to snip the optic nerves, before knotting the excess so as to keep them in place. You tug at an eye, finding it to be secure. Perfect.

Next on the agenda is to get the brain out. You take your ice cream scoop and begin scraping it clean, knowing that you are making terrible waste of a mind. What secrets might she contain that are now lost forever?

You shake your head, turning on the ove—

Checking on the oven, you find it's done prehea—

You slide in the—

the egg timer goes off, and you open the oven to peek, hot air rushing into your face as you sit there binking. Shaking your head, you decide to not think too much on what just happened, and instead fully open the oven to grasp the tray with your hands, pulling it out. "Hot, hot, hot!" You quickly move it to the thankfully granite counter, which, while suspiciously normal, still makes perfect sense with what they wish for you to do, whomever they might be. Looking to your hands, you find them lightly blistered. Now you remember why you don't like cooking. Fire hurts like _hell_.

Cloe flutters over to you, peeking at your hands that you're currently popping the blisters of. "They make not-wing covers to prevent that."

You look at her oddly. Every time you feel these two can't say something weirder, they surprise you. "Not-wings?"

"Yes, the foot-like not-wings"

You just have no words to say to that. But then you realize something. Something that makes her at least make [i]some[/i] sense. "Cloe, how old are you?"

"Too many winters to count." Thinking a moment, she adds, "And most of them I didn't know how to count. Not the way humans do, anyways." You open your mouth to speak, but she continues. "Master theorizes that I'm at least 30 winters old, however."

You take a deep breath and let it out. She is starting to get on your nerves.

Although, you'll admit, this distraction is _extremely_ helpful in ignoring the things you're doing here. You practically killed Atlas, causing the world to faaaaand now you're thinking about it again. "Cloe, distract me."

Cloe starts... you honestly aren't quite sure, but she's currently rapidly kissing your clothes. This is honestly adorable. She's like a little chick, trying to get foo— "Oww, _oww_ , _**oww**_!" You grab the beak of an ibis pecking at you. You only assume it to be X, for where else would you find such a specific breed as your own? You hold her up by her beak. "Stop tha— **_Oww_!** " You look back to Cloe who is, surprisingly, an adult of the same breed. Also, _why does she come up to your chest_?

X looks smugly proud of Cloe for learning so quickly, while Cloe looks thankful. You, however, are thankful that she only pecked you once, as boy did that hurt. Giving X a dry look, you proceed to toss her back to where she was working, causing her the squawk as she wildly flails her wings. Cloe doesn't look particularly pleased with your treatment of whom you can only guess she sees as a friend.

Surprisingly, Cloe does more than chirp. "That wasn't very nice." How she spoke without lips is beyond you, and X seems to hold similar sentiments, while also looking oddly envious.

Honestly, you feel a bit jealous, too.

You cross your arms. "She was pecking me."

"You didn't have to throw her." How did she even make a "th" sound, now that you think about it? You might need to pick her brai— Distractions, distractions!

"Would you rather I throw _you_?"

"Yes."

You blink twice, surprised by that response, and thankfully distracted. "...Very well." Against your better judgement, you lower your face to her beak's level so as to hook your hands under her. You try to pick her up, thinking that she must be light for her size.

You proceed to throw your back out, doubling over in— You pick her up slowly, not putting your back under undue stress. She's heavier than you expected, so it's a good thing that you didn't do the thing you remember very clearly doing. You wince as another capillary in your eye bursts. You make note not to question the machinations of reality, or whatever is going on.

Cloe looks to be enjoying being carried well enough, which is odd, when considering the infernal peeping she made earlier, but sadly it's time you made good on your word. Many would call you a weak youkai, and that more or less sums you up; weak of arm and magic, you not only are a weak youkai, but _exemplify_ weak youkai. You huff and puff as you swing her back, before tossing her a short distance. She lands heavily on the chocolate floors, stumbling a tad, but catching herself. And then she changes back into her human form.

And then you realize her clothes are folded neatly off to the side, and simply pinch the arch of your nose. Okay, enough distractions. Looking at another you is like looking in a mirror, so it is as such is hardly interesti— Do you have that mole there? Shaking your head, you look to the skull. More atrocities, coming right up.

Predicting Cloe's desire to hear you read this aloud, you decide that reading things twice when you don't have to isn't something you want to do. As such, you pick up a squawking Cloe — whom is only half dressed, as you really don't care at this point — sit down, sit her in your lap, and pat her head. Surprisingly, she calms down, stopping the infernal peeping that she had begun just moments ago. "Now, to begin, I must warn you that I must legally tell you not to do this. Why you _ever_ would want to make delicious chocolate in the skull of your _most hated enemy_ is beyond me, as such a thing would be _completely_ insane. How one _ranks_ levels of insanity is beyond me. Perhaps we need such a system on Pandora, as much insanity as there is."

"Now, as they have told me that I have _sarcastically_ reached my quota for warning you, it is time that I begin. If you do not possess the skull of your most hated enemy, a very reasonable way to acquire one is to tell some poor brute to kill them for a very poorly made gun and a curiously small amount of money. If you yell a large number at them, that also helps. It has actually become a rather common way to get errands done, in fact."

Cloe's head-wing flaps from side to side as you turn the page, the very sound of doing so putting a smile on her face. As she smiles, you continue, "However, should you for some reason be unable to procure the help of a Vault Hunter, you must instead use that cheap weapon you intended to give them to do the job yourself. Although, as they have the uncanny talent to not die when killed for some odd reason, it may be best to simply wait for them."

"Once one has collected the skull, it is time that you make a decision. Do you remove the non-skull part, or do you attempt to preserve it so as to keep the look on their face immortalized for all time. Sadly, this decision was already made for me once I finally acquired the skull. However, the one that reduced it down to the bony structures _is_ the one that gave me the idea to do this, so I will ignore the terrible thing she did with the phlegm of cheeses. Although, the crumbs of tortilla chips _did_ force me to revoke this forgiveness."

* * *

"As for the chocolate itself, refer to the chapters on making the chocolate. However, as you may possibly have a fresh head, you must consider if your target for this gift is a cannibal. If the answer is yes, then I would suggest roasting that which makes them who they are and coating chunks of it in their favorite sweetened coating. Sadly, I neither had a fresh skull, nor did Clork have a mouth to enjoy the chocolate. He certainly _considers_ himself a cannibal, however." You set Cloe off to the side, before getting up off the ground.

You look back to the tray of brain, deciding that you must now cover it in the... ...You're not going to question when you made this caramel. Or with what, for that matter.

You wince as your head throbs, your nose dribbling blood. You sigh, remembering all the work you did to to make this from its raw materials, whilst ignoring the blood getting in it, as that just might be considered a show of love, or at least you hope it's considered as such by whomever trapped you three here.

You begin doing your best to coat the squishy brain chunks in caramel, but, in the end, have plenty left over. You look to the others. "Would either of you need caramel for your chocolate?"

X looks to you over her shoulder. "I'm afraid that Arnold has a severe dislike towards caramel after an incident in his youth."

While you're left scratching your head on if she named the chair, Cloe clears her throat, grabbing your attention. "Do you believe it would properly counterbalance the flavor of the worms?" You just stare at her. "I have never had caramel before, and so I am unsure."

Sighing, you hand it over. "It would be best as a caramel center, or a coating for the worms, I would imagine." Though you remember eating worms now and then, you would not be one to eat them unless forced. Fish are superior, after all, not to mention far more satisfying to feel slide down your throat. Still, if one must use bird food, you certainly think either seeds or worms would be the better thing to add. However, nothing is gained if you never try new things. Not that you will try them, but still.

Next, you mix together the other ingredients that you've apparently been preparing for quite some time. Criollo cocoa powder that you... recently ground, powdered milk that you don't like the source of or implications there of, cocoa butter, Reimu lecithin and sugar.

You begin the conching process, knowing well that it must be done manually for maximum love dispersal, not to mention that you know well that you will be here for days.

As you conch, you find yourself twitching forward in points in time, soon being lost to what time or day it is. If not for being a youkai, and thus having ridiculous durability, you likely would have torn the muscles of your arm in two by now. Still hurts like you did, of course, as the healing can't really keep up with the damage being done. The moment you stop, you realize that your arm hurts _far_ more than you realized as you empty the finished product into a bowl. Next, you place wax paper on a tray and begin dipping the brain clusters in the chocolate, before setting them aside to harden. While you were lost in mixing montages, it seems that Cloe has completed her... you think that it's chocolate and caramel dipped worms. As for X, it reminds you of chocolate filled with puffed rice.

But with splinters instead of the rice.

Cloe seems to be waiting for something, and you're honestly unsure of what, but you begin filling the cavity in the head with the chocolates, replacing the hairy cap. There. You're done. It's over.

You hear a great ripping that is as loud as it is silent. Distant yet near. unnoticed yet notice. Your skin immediately bleaches as you spy just what lies before you. Eyes. Many, many eyes. No eyes. Eyes that focus on you and also nothing at all. You swear that you see a different reflection of the same scene before them in each eye.

The portal also has some pretty bows, which, if the gap itself weren't enough, would immediately tip you off to whom it might be that it belongs to.

Silken bows of the most luxurious material, and yet, at the same time, tattered bows of ancient threadbare cloths of time immemorial, held together simply by their defiance at the ages that have passed.

Velvet ribbons that look particularly pompous.

Cotton knots that look cheap.

Wool ties that look soft.

Linen of the most simple design.

Every kind of cloth, each looking different ages, are before you, and yet none of them at all. You realize that the abyss sees you as you gaze upon it.

It looks amused.

It looks terrifically, terribly amused.

And, as if she were always there, and yet never was, a woman is watching you with all expressions and yet none. Through them all, you see a grin.

A seemingly infinite number of things are said at once, and yet they all amount to one thing.

A greeting.

Cloe perks up while X just looks the most lost in the possibilities of it all. "Hello, old Master! You seem positively variable today!"

Suddenly, the woman before you snaps to a singular reality, or at least you assume, as her form is not all that could be, but one that is. Her eyes settle on violet. Her dress is violet as well. Her white gloves open a fan of a yin yang design, fanning herself. "[My, my, Tokiko, you've been busy, have you not? I hope you made something for myself as well as the librarian. I would be quite wounded if you did not~.]" A titter gently shakes her refined form.

Cloe's head-wing wags the hardest yet. "Of course! I could never be so rude to you, old Master!" She grabs a particularly large coated worm, offering it to her.

Smiling, the woman musses Cloe's hair-like feathers much to the small girl's consternation. "[My, the biggest one? How generous of you~]" She plucks the night crawler-sized treat, and, unexpectedly, takes a delicate bite. "[spoiler]Caramel, hmm? How unexpected...[/spoiler]" She takes another bite. It's a bit disconcerting to see her take a bite, and yet talk as if her mouth is empty. You saw no movement of the jaw, nor that of swallowing, after she took that bite.

It was simply... _gone_.

And then her eyes slowly move to you, and your fight or flight nearly kicks in as soon as they stop on you, knowing full well what and whom she is, while even now having no idea all the same. Before you can flee, she compliments, "[You are quite skilled at making caramel, aren't you?]" You blink. "[Ohh, don't look at me like that.]" She chuckles this time. "[I give credit where credit is due; you...]" She eyes the head. "[...have impressed me. You managed to kill a Reimu.]" The term ['a'] makes you shudder, but you don't have time to consider this.

Next, her eyes suddenly twitch to X. "[And you... The things we do for love, hmm? It's best not to try to bring back the dead, however; no matter what one does, they will never be the same.]" Her eyes move to the chair. "[After all, poor Arnold exemplifies this, does he not? He's certainly been Changed...]" X simply gazes at the chair, a complex expression on her face.

Her eyes move back to you. "[Now, then. I shall be needing that head, I'm afraid. Perhaps you would make a deal with little ol' me?]"

Her smile is as pleasant as it is genuine.

[Her smile is as eerie as it is fake.]

Yukari eyes you. "[So be it~]" She points the open fan at you, a wicked grin upon those pleasant features, like calm waters troubled by a hurricane. "[This is the end for you, Tokiko.]"

You swallow the lump of dread forming in your throat. "...That is for the best."

Her eyes fill with mirth. [But they don't.]

The fan snaps shut like a guillotine's descent. [And yet it never did.]

Your eyes widen in shock. [And yet they never do.]

You look down at yourself.

[It seems to be the ordinary clothes you made with your youki.] Red and white shrine maiden garb greets you, if heavily modified for comfort and ease of maneuverability, not to mention kept together with wishful thinking and a favor owed here and there.

[You look to Yukari, confused at nothing happening.] You're thankful for the peace as you clear the snow a bit.

[Yukari vanishes before your eyes, as she was never there to begin with.] You hold a hand to your mouth as you let out a yawn, which leads to stretching, followed by setting down your shovel for a moment.

[You look extremely alarmed as you wildly look for people who have already left, finished with their tasks.] "...I think I'll have some tea."

[You try to scream for help, knowing it already to be too late for you.] You check your cupboards, finding them depressingly empty, like usual.

[ ] You open up the offery box, sighing at the sight: empty, just like always. You sigh. It seems you don't have money for tea. But what to do? Drink water? No, that won't do. You have an odd feeling that you will need tea, but you aren't sure what for. You pull out your gohei, taking to the skies.

You wander around aimlessly for a time.

[In the end, you are without tea, resulting in quite the chain of events, ending in the shrine's destruction. _Again._ ] You spot a bird reading a book, with books stacked beside it. Your mind clicks, a smile spreading on your lips.

[It was caused by a(n erhu wielding girl who claims you know her, and seemingly fades in and out of reality. She apparently did this to gain your attention, as you've been ignoring her for months. Obviously Yukari's doing.) trio of instrument wielding poltergeists who took their encore a bit too far. Who they are, you aren't sure.] [As luck would have it, unsealing your most troublesome of (foes that tormented you as a child, causing you to wake up Genji for one last ride, as you need his wisdom on this one for reasons heavily foreshadowed in a story that never gets finished.) headaches. Get it? Because you're a shrine maiden. Sealing. Yeah, it was a terrible joke.] You know just where to get the money for tea.

The bird looks up at her destiny, before life teaches her just how truly unfair it can be.

* * *

Jeez... Some resolution this has turned out to be... I've been inactive for 2 months! ...Sorta. Honestly, till the last couple weeks, I've actually been semi-diligently working on writing, but now... Well, anywho, I hope you enjoyed my writing practice/Valentine's Day gift for someone or other~


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